praise His word 's my rule my warrant 's his command Thus am I fitted Death cut off my dayes If thou wilt within this houre I will thank thee for thy pain For to me to die is gain I 'll not fear a jote thy power What canst thou do that justly may affright me Though with thee in the dark I dwell a space Yet canst thou not eternally benight me Thou art my passage to a glorious place Where shall not be any night My rais'd ashes shall enjoy There an everlasting day And an uneclipsed light I fear not death because of putrefaction Nor if I might would willingly decline it My body gains by 't 't is the graves best action God as a founder melts it to refine it Death cannot annihilate And in despite of the grave Yet I shall a body have Fairer and in better state Gods second work excells his first by ods Our second birth life Adam to repair Our bodies is a second work of Gods To make them better then at first they were Glorious immortall sound Nimble beautifull and so Splendid that from top to toe Not a blemish may be found What begger weeps when 's rags are thrown away To put on better clothes Who is 't will grieve To pull a rotten house down that it may Be fairer built Why should we not receive Death with both hands when he comes To pull off those rags that hide us To unhouse us and provide us Richer clothes and better homes The griping pangs of Death do not affright My heart at all I have deserved mo And if upon no other terms I might Enjoy my God I to my God would go Through hells self although a throng Of an hundred thousand juries Of the black'st infernall Furies Claw'd me as I went along Nor can those inward terrours make me quake Which Death-beds often on the soul do bring I have no Death-bed-reck'nings for to make 'T was made while I was well and every thing Was dispatch'd before that I Nothing in the world now save Home-desiring longings have Then to do but just to die Nor doth it trouble me that Death will take me From those delights that are enjoy'd below Alas I know that none of them can make me One jote the happier man nor can bestow Any comfort Carnall gladnesse Mirth delight and jollity This worlds best felicitie All is vanity and madnesse Mere empty husks Had I as many treasures In my possession as the muddiest wretch Did ever covet and as many pleasures As from the creature fleshly men can fetch Had I this or if I were Supreme Monarch onely Lord Of what earth and sea afford Yet I would not settle here To be dissolv'd is better Death doth bring A fairer fortune then it takes away It sets us in a world where every thing Is a happinesse a full and solid joy Not to be conceiv'd before We come thither but the blisse Which exceedeth all is this That there we shall sinne no more Lord grant a copious portion of thy Spirit The more I have of that the lesse I fear What Death can do for sure I shall inherit All joy in heaven if I am holy here Nought suits with heaven but sanctitie Let my God thy Spirit and grace Fit me for that holy place And that holy companie Meditation 5. IF Death will come what do men mean to sinne With so much greedinesse me thinks I see What a sad case the godlesse world is in How fast asleep in her securitie Fearlessely in sinne men live As if Death would never come Or there were no day of doom When they must a reck'ning give Observe a little yonder black-mouth'd swearer How 's tongue with oathes and curses pelts the skies 'T would grieve the heart of any pious hearer But to bear witnesse of his blasphemies He darts wounds at God on high Puts on cursing as his clothes And doth wrap his tongue in oathes To abuse Eternity In lawlesse lust the fornicatour fries And longs to slake it 'twixt forbidden sheets Ne'r sets the sunne but his adulterous eyes Observes the twilight and his harlot meets That which follows when the night Draws its curtain o'r the air To conceal this goatish pair Modesty forbids to write And I could shew you were it worth the viewing In that room three or foure drunkards reeling In this as many more that sweat with spewing Some that have drunk away their sense and seeling Men of all sorts in their wine And their ale sit domineering Cursing railing roring swearing Under every baser signe 'T is said so vile is this big-belly'd sinne That in a day and lesse some foure or five Of lustie drunken throats will swallow in More then hath kept two families alive A whole forthnight yet made they Merrie with 't Had I my wishes Such gulls should not drink like fishes But their throats should chāge their trade The covetous man with his usurious clutches Doth catch and hold fast all the wealth he may He leans on 't as a creeple on his crutches The miser studies nothing night and day But his gain he 's like a swine Looking downward like a mole Blind and of an earthen soul Minding nothing that 's divine These and beside these other sorts of sinners In every parish you may dayly see As greedy at their sinnes as at their dinners And wallowing in all impiety Sure these miscreants do never Entertein a thought of dying Nor yet are afraid of frying In hell flames for altogether Thou God of spirits be pleas'd to aw my heart With death and judgement that when I would sinne I may remember that I must depart And whatsoe're condition I am in When I sink under Deaths hand There 's no penance in the grave Nor then can I mercy have So must I in judgement stand Meditation 6. Lord what a thief is Death it robs us quite Of all the world great men of all their honours Luxurious men of all their fond delight Rich men of all their money farms and mannours Naked did the world find us And the world will leave us so We shall carrie when we go Nothing but leave all behind us Let Death do 's worst ambitious men do climb By any sinne though it be ne're so soul Gold-thirsty misers swallow any crime That brings gain with it though it kill the soul Here for gain is over-reaching Cosening cheating lying stealing Knavish and sinister dealing All arts of the devils teaching Whilst I am well advis'd I 'll never strive T' increase my wealth if 't will increase my sinne I will be rather poore then seek to thrive By means unlawfull all 's not worth a pinne When mine eye-lids Death doth close What I sinned for must be Shak'd hands with eternally But the sinne that with me goes I 'll not wast love upon these lower things Nor on the choicest of them doting sit For when sad Death a habeas corpus brings To take the world from me and me from it '
their Epitaphs in curious layes Once with a singing Swan a part she bears As soon 's those corall doores dismiss'd her voice The poore Swan held his peace and di'd And the spheres as men do say Dumbly move unto this day This was by a rivers side What think you now of such a glorious woman This Phoenix sure was she if any might That might be proud And yet the tongue of no man Can well expresse nor any pen can write What grim death hath done unto her Now she 's of another feature Hardly can you know the creature Stay a while and we will view her Th' almighty King that dwells above in heaven Directs to 's high Shrieve Death a certain writ Wherein a strait imperiall charge was given At 's utmost peril forthwith on sight of it To arrest that piece of beauty And to wrap her up in clay ' Gainst the last great judgement-day Death address'd him to his duty And with great care gives warrant by and by Unto his baillifs Fever Pox and Gout Phrensie Strangury Colick Squinancy Consumption Dropsie and an ugly rout Beside these for to assail her Deaths command was that they must Tie her fast in chains of dust He gave charge that none should bail her You would not think with what a furious pace These catchpoles flie to pull this creature down But Pox was nimblest she got to her face And plow'd it up This hag goes in a gown Rugged and of colour tawny Button'd o're from top to toe Skin-deep beauties deadly foe Uglier hag was never any Fain would the rest have fastned on her too But that this hag had frighted out her soul Now looks her carcase of another hue Grim ugly lothsome ghastly and as soul As did ever eye look on What 's become of that complexion Which held all hearts in subjection In a moment all is gone If we might be so bold to dig the grave Some few years hence where this good woman lies Sure we should find this beauty but a slave To pallid putresaction and a prize For those silly vermine worms As they crawl in stinking swarms She doth hug them in her arms And doth give them suck by turns Here 's a deformed lump indeed and this Must be the fortune of the fairest face None then are proud but fools They love amisse Whose hearts are chain'd to any thing but grace From the beauty of the skin In the loveliest outward part Lord vouchsafe to turn my heart To love that which is within Meditation 3. IF Death will come sure there will come an end Of all this worlds deep-biting misery Nothing adverse that 's here on earth doth tend Beyond the grave that 's a delivery From the pow'r of men and devils And what-ever other wo May befall us here below Death 's a shelter from all evils Here I am poore my daily drops of sweat Will not maintein my full-stock'd family A dozen hungry children crie for meat And I have none nor will words satisfie Could I give their belly ears 'T were a comfort or could fill Hungry stomacks with good will Or make daily bread of tears Here the oppressour with his griping claws Sits on my skirts my racking land-lord rears Both rent and fine with potent looks he aws Me from mine own Scarce any man but bears In his bosome Ahabs heart Horse-leach-like that 's ever craving Other mens and sick of having Right or wrong will catch a part Here in these clay-built houses sicknesse reigns I have more maladies then I can name Each member of my body hath its pains Moreover weeping groning sadnesse shame Slanders melancholy fear Discontents disgraces losses And a thousand other crosses Must be born if I live here But these are finite all When I am dead My poverty is ended and my care I heare my famish'd children crie for bread No longer Then I drink I lodge I fare Just as well as Caesar doth There ends cold and nakednesse All my former wretchednesse Death is meat and drink and cloth There 's no face-grinding There the mighty cease From troubling there the weary be at rest The servant 's freed the pris'ner is at ease All 's still and quiet no man is oppress'd For incroachers there are none Not a poore man 's wronged nor Is his vineyard longed for Every man may keep his own Sicknesse there 's none when-ever Death shall take My body hence and lodge it in the clay I shall not feel a tooth or finger ake Nor any other misery that may In the least degree displease me For all sores the grave hath plasters And it cureth all disasters Of all burdens Death will ease me Malicious tongues fired below in hell There will not hurt me nor the poisonous breath Of whispering detractours I shall dwell Securely in the dust One stroke of Death Sets me out of gun-shot quite Not the deepest-piercing tongue Can there do me any wrong Bark they may but cannot bite Lord I am thine and if it be thy will While I do live a stranger here below Brim-high with bitternesse my cup to fill And make me drink 't yet Lord withall bestow But thy grace and thou shalt see me Patient and my comfort 's this That a short affliction 't is In a moment Death may free me Meditation 4. IF I must die it must be my endeavour So to provide that every thought of Death May be a thought of comfort that when-ever That aged sire shall take away my breath I may willingly lay down This old house that 's made of clay Gladly welcoming the day That brings an eternall crown But of all things a holy life 's the way Must lead me to a comfortable end To crucifie my lusts and to obey Gods sacred will in all things This doth tend Unto comfort joy and ease Mark the man that is upright And sets God alwayes in 's sight That mans end is ever peace What makes me fear a serpent 't is his sting The mischief 's there When that is taken out I can look on him as a harmlesse thing And in my bosome carry him about What makes Death look rufully Not Deaths self it is his sting That doth fear and horrour bring And makes men so loth to die The sting of death is sinne but there 's a Jesus Hath pluck'd it out The guilt 's done quite away The stain is wash'd He sent his Spirit to ease us In some good measure of that kingly sway Which o're us sinne held before Blessed work of grace now I Strongest lusts can mortifie In my soul sinne reigns no more Now in me holinesse is wrought which is A pious disposition of the heart Inclining me to hate what 's done amisse In me and others never to depart From God to left hand or right Nor one of his laws to break But to think and do and speak What 's well-pleasing in his sight Each act from faith and love ariseth and The end I aim at is my Makers
cannot see Things divine for yet they be In their naturall condition But sanctified souls have better eyes Each Person in the sacred Trinitie Sends comfort down and such as farre outvies The best delight that is below the skie Father Sonne and holy Ghost Be it spoke with reverence Seem to strive which shall dispense Blessings that do comfort most The Father as his title often writes Himself a God of peace and consolation He sends me comforts by those sacred lights Which bring me errands from his habitation And so firm and full and free Is each promise in his book That on whichsoe'r I look Blessed comforts I do see So firm that first the hugest hills and mountains Shall dance out of their places starres shall fall Streams shall run backward to their mother-fountains The earth shall tumble ere he will recall One of 's promises For why And this gives strong consolation In the middest of temptation He 's a God and cannot lie So full that there 's not any thing left out That I could wish What I would have him be God is Would I be compassed about With mercie find relief in miserie Would I by his Spirit be led And have all my sinnes forgiven And hereafter go to heaven All this God hath promised So free that to deserve that promis'd glory I nothing have but what his mercie gave me 'T is gratis rather then compensatorie Whatever God doth to convert or save me And if any good I do 'T is done by supplies Divine So Gods work and none of mine Grace begins and ends it too What if by nature I was made a sheep And by corruption I am gone astray Whether I think or speak or do or sleep Or wake do ever wander from the way I was set in and am toss'd So by lust that my soul wanders Into many by-meanders Like a sillie sheep that 's lost Yet God 's my shepherd When his mercy spi'd me Wandring it brought me home and ever since It doth watch over feed defend and guide me And ever will do so till I go hence And hereafter in the even When my latest sand is runne And my pasture here is done It will sold my soul in heaven The Sonne doth comfort 'T was his errand down To preach glad tidings to the meek and turn Their wo to ease to earn a glorious crown For sinners and to comfort those that mourn Broken-hearted ones to bind And to set at libertie Pris'ners in captivitie And give eye-sight to the blind There 's comfort in his wounds His sacred stripes Do heal our leprous souls of all their sores 'T is nothing but his pretious bloud that wipes Our guilt away and cancelleth our scores Six times did he shed his bloud And sure our estate did need it That so many times he did it And each drop was for our good Those circumcision-drops of 's infancie Those drops that 's anguish in the garden vented Those drops when he was scourged Jewishly Those drops when 's head with sharpest thorns was tented Those drops when his limbs were nailed To the crosse those when the fierce Souldiers spear his side did pierce Each drop for our good prevailed There 's comfort in his crosse That vile old man That hangs about us to our dying day Is crucified with him that it can Not exercise half of its wonted sway Lessened is its kingly power Surely sinne it struggles so Hath receiv'd a mortall blow And is dying everie houre There 's comfort in his death For us he dy'd For us he felt his Fathers heavie wrath And his impartiall justice satisfi'd And us his alsufficient passion hath Pluck'd from Satan vi armis And his meritorious pain Freed us from sinnes guilt and stain And whatever else might harm us There 's comfort in his resurrection too He rose again that we might be accounted Righteous and just This no man else could do And that our sinnes whose number farre surmounted All the starres that shine in heaven All our hairs and all the sand That lies scattered on the strand For his sake might be forgiven And God the holy Ghost doth comfort bring By speciall office it is his employment To settle in the soul a lively spring From whence doth issue such a sweet enjoyment Of divine heart-pleasing blisse As the world will not believe Nor can any heart conceive But the heart wherein it is It is this blessed Spirit that doth seal Assurance to my conscience of a share In what God in and through his Sonne doth deal To needy sinners that converted are It assures me of Gods love In the free and full remission Of my sinnes and exhibition Of those joyes that are above Let now the world that 's wont to tell a storie Of strange delights shew me but such a pleasure As to be sure of God and Christ and glory And then I 'll hug it as my choicest treasure Thus each Person of the three Is imploy'd if I do live Holy as I ought to give Joy and comfort unto me Grant a man once to be in Christ and he On sublunarie pleasures soon will trample And yet for pleasures who shews best will vie With all the world give him but one example What gets pleasure and what feeds it Whatsoe'r ' mongst earthly things To the mind most pleasure brings He can shew what farre exceeds it Can learning please he is a man of parts Me thinks sure at his very singers end He hath exactly all the liberall arts At least he hath such arts as will commend Any man a great deal more And will sooner bring to heaven Then will any of those seven On which learned men do pore His Logick is so scientificall His Syllogismes are in so blest a mood A thousand arguments his heart le ts fall That rightly from good premises conclude Him a child of God on high And a member of his Sonne And an heir when 's race is runne Of a blest Eternitie His Rhetorick excells He can perswade More then those well-penn'd sweet orations which Demosthenes or Tullie ever made Doth he that prayer-hearing God beseech Presently his eare he gains For fine words it is no matter Let him like a swallow chatter Or a crane yet he obtains And for Arithmetick his numeration Is of his dayes this makes the man applie His heart to wisdome that in any station He may perform his dutie prudently And those sinnes to make them hatefull Which his conscience most do cumber Everie day the man doth number And Gods blessings to be gratefull And for Addition 't is his diligence Vertue to adde to faith to vertue knowledge Love godlinesse peace kindnesse patience One to another that his soul 's a Colledge Filled with divinest graces And not one grace idle lies But all do their exercise In their severall turns and places When he subtracteth 't is not from the poore As most men do not from the King nor Church But from sinnes monstrous bodie More and more